


Rumor Has It

by SusanaR



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Farewells, Friendship, Gen, Sailing To Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:45:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Aragorn is dead. Long live King Eldarion. But what of Legolas? And what rumor has Faramir heard?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is set in about Fourth Age 120 or 121. In the DH AU, Faramir is still alive then. He's about 150 years old, but given that he comes from a strongly elven/Numenorean family on his mother's side (the Princes of Dol Amroth), that normal humans with Numenorean heritage can easily live to be 120, and that he is the son of Aragorn in the DH AU (and Aragorn lived to be 200), I think it's safe to say that he's still spry enough to be helping his younger brother to get past losing their father. I also think it's also likely that Faramir more or less just acts as an advisor these days, and has for a number of decades, letting his son Elboron ( who is about 120) play the role of Eldarion's Steward and Prince of Ithilien. Which gives Faramir time to do things like sit around and annoy Legolas. Only with the best of intentions, of course.
> 
> Acknowledgements: My thanks to Beth, who read a draft of this story back in 2011 – remember that, Beth? – and said nice and encouraging things about it.

The great Anduin flowed past Emyn Arnen at a goodly clip. Its blue waters were fast and deep enough to carry a ship swiftly to the sea. A ship such as the graceful schooner which currently lay at anchor near the Prince’s private dock. 

An elf, a man, and a dwarf sat on the end of the pier. The feet of the man and the elf dangled into the cold rushing water. 

“I don't even know what I'll do with myself in the west,” Complained Legolas Thranduilon, “Retired before I'm even 700. What a farce.” 

“You're barely 600, gwador muin nin,” said his friend Faramir dryly, “I am sure that you will find something to do with yourself.”

Legolas did not even respond, except to shrug despondently.

Gimli and Faramir exchanged looks. Faramir rolled his eyes, and patted Legolas' back.

"You know," Faramir said quietly, "I've heard a rumor, about you, Legolas."

"Your father and I never slept together." Legolas managed to joke, though there was a hitch in his voice, "That was just a rumor we started when some of the idiots at our respective father's courts thought it odd that we were such close friends."

"Really?" Faramir asked, intrigued. He'd known that there was no truth to the rumor, of course, but not that Aragorn and Legolas had started it themselves . . . his Adar had passed on and soon Legolas would sail . . . this might be one of Faramir's last chances to learn the truth of it . . . 

Gimli reached around Legolas to smack Faramir’s arm. Faramir flushed at the reminder that the purpose of this little talk was to try and cheer Legolas up, and to remind him that sailing was a good idea, and that no one blamed him for it. Key to that mission was not to be distracted by Legolas, who knew Faramir very well, and was just as determined NOT to have this conversation. Or admit to the necessity of sailing.

Faramir shook his head, and gave Legolas an exasperated look, "Don't distract me."

"Don't be so easily distracted." Legolas retorted, a faint light of amusement in his eyes, thoguh the grief and sea-longing mostly drowned it out.

“I heard,” Faramir continued, rededicating himself to his original gambit, “that you used to be quite the scholar yourself, as an elfling. And that you even managed some impressive academic work, in your adolescent and early adult years, in order to get back to your weapons sooner after some mishap or another.” 

Legolas gaped at Faramir, and Gimli grinned. 

“And,” Faramir continued, “I heard that you enjoyed the work, as an elfling, for all the pains you took to hide it when you were older.” 

“How….who told you….” Legolas sputtered, “I could have sworn that even Thalion had only heard that by rumor, and not really believed it…..” 

“Naneth Arwen told me, of course.” Faramir answered, in a ‘who else?’ type of tone, “You forgot yourself, when she and the twins visited after . . . you know, the time with the spiders. You managed to do well on several tests she gave you which were intended for a much older elfling.” 

Legolas huffed a laugh and looked away, his eyes tracking the flight of a white-winged egret, “ I was new to deception, then.” He answered quietly. 

Faramir kicked up a small wave of river water, precisely calculated to hit Legolas at the knee. 

The blond elf’s eyes narrowed, but his attention did return to Aragorn’s son. 

“So,” Faramir explained, “Nana, Gimli, and I wrote to Daerada Elrond in the West.” 

Eyes still narrowed, Legolas said threateningly, “I cannot wait to appropriately thank you all for these wonderful things you have done on my behalf.” 

“Thank Gimli,” Said Faramir disloyally, “I'm certainly too old for such aggressive thanks, and you'll have plenty of time with him.” 

Legolas opened his mouth to argue the point, and Faramir quickly spoke on, “In any case, we wrote Daerada Elrond, and so whenever you've finished visiting whomever Daerada Elrond and your family think you should visit, you'll have an apprenticeship waiting for you, either in Tirion or with one of Lady Galadriel's tutors.”

“I am not your son, Faramir, for you to thusly arrange such things on my behalf!” Legolas said heatedly, his snapping eyes and flushed cheeks betraying his anger. 

“No, you're not my son,” Said Faramir gently, “You've been my father's brother, my brother, my brother's brother, and my son's brother. And if it were your son, wouldn't you want someone to help him, as I've helped you?” 

Legolas cursed softly, and looked away to the egret again. “Faramir, you have this way about you, of taking the pain, the insult, out of something, and leaving nothing left but the heart of it.” 

“You do, son of Aragorn,” Gimli agreed, “I think that you may have learned it from your mothers.”

Legolas cursed again, “Eru, I’ll miss them. I'll miss them. I'll miss you all. Except Gimli.” His hand moved to grasp Gimli's. Gimli squeezed Legolas' hand firmly, and laid his other hand on top of their clasped hands.

“We'll miss you, too,” Said Faramir softly, “But wherever I am, I'm sure that Aragorn, Boromir and I, and Eowyn and Arwen, we'll all be there, raising a glass to Legolas Thranduilon and Gimli son of Gloin, and their friendship.” 

Gimli cleared his throat, his voice somewhat husky as he promised, “And we'll be raising our glasses, to the sons of the Hurins and the heirs of Isildur, and the Riders of Rohan.” He paused, then added a little uncertainly, in the tone of one trying to convince himself of something, “I'm sure that they'll have ale, in the West.” 

Legolas, blinking tears away, laughed a bit unsteadily, “I am sure that they will have a fine variety of intoxicating spirits there, don't worry, my friend. And I'd be surprised if Gandalf hasn't found a way to cultivate weeds for your pipe, too."

“Well, if he hasn't, then we will,” Gimli said, sounding relieved to be somewhat surer on this point, “For I've got plantings ready to take with me. Young Frodo Gamgee, and Thalion and Rhovameril, they all made sure of that.” 

Rolling his eyes, Legolas teased, “Well as long we're taking plants to grow pipe smoke …..” 

“Nay, just seeds, and some plantings.” Gimli replied with equanimity. 

“It's best to take care of the important things,” Said Faramir, his gaze moving to the gently bobbing schooner. 

“Aye, Adar wrote me that you’re to be a great-grandfather again, Fara-nin.” 

Legolas looked to be honestly amazed, rather than using this bit of news as yet another distraction, so Faramir grinned and answered, "I know. Twenty times over a grandfather, and already thirty times over a great-grandfather."

The three paused to contemplate that for a moment, then Gimli grinned with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 

“I look forward to seeing Legolas introduced to a bunch of pretty ellith.” He teased, reaching out to tug on a blond braid. 

"Oh, ugh," groaned Legolas, making a face, “I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated enough being away from all of that, here in Ithilien.” He eyed his laughing friends with scant favor, before a less pleasant thought occurred to him. 

“The apprenticeship,” Legolas worried, “I couldn't take it, Fara-nin. I don't want to leave Gimli behind while I'm that busy with something.” 

Faramir laughed, and smacked Legolas lightly on the shoulder. "Legolas, you goose. Your apprenticeship will be with Ingloren's old partners and Galadriel's old teachers. Gimli will be so much more than welcome, that they may well invite him to live in their pocket. You may have to struggle to keep up with a dwarven engineer and stonemason of Gimli's status. But I know you'll be equal to that, in your own way, whatever it will be."

“But how do you know that? That Gimli will be welcome, I mean?” 

“Aye, Faramir, how do ye know that?" Gimli demanded, "For that much is news even to me. I'd expected to have to find something to occupy my own time, which I would have been perfectly fine with. Lady Galadriel,” Gimli’s tone shifted from faintly accusatory to openly admiring as even said the honored name, while Faramir and Legolas exchanged an amused glance over his head, “Was herself worried how some of that lot would react to the choice she offered me.” With a reproving glance for Legolas, who did look about to protest, Gimli added, “Not that I minded that. I’d trust the Lady Galadriel’s judgment over that of a bunch of elves I’ve never met, aye, and even their betters.” 

“But what you should understand,” Faramir explained patiently, “Is that it was their idea in the first place, at least some of them. Not to offer Gimli in specific an immortal life, but that it would be possible to do so for someone. But more to the point - I know because Melyanna, Mithiriel, Elboron's daughter, and Gilwen's younger granddaughter, have all told me so.”

It was quiet for a few moments, and then Legolas asked, “How?” 

“Galadriel has sent them dreams,” Said Faramir, with a fond smile, “All will be well, my two dear gwedyr. Your coming is awaited in joy by many elves, and by our old friend Mithrandir.” 

Legolas cursed under his breath again. He spent a long minute gazing down river, then took a deep breath, "I've finally run out of excuses then, haven't I?"

“Aye, my lad.” Gimli agreed, getting up to a lay a large hand on Legolas’ slender shoulder. 

“It does seem so,” Said Faramir sympathetically, placing his hand on Legolas’ other shoulder. 

With a determined tilt of his chin, Legolas decided, “If I do marry one of those ellith Gimli is determined to surround me with in the West, and I am fortunate enough to have a son, I'd like to name him after Aragorn."

“I know he'd be honored.” Said Faramir, his own voice a little husky. His grandchildren and great-nieces and nephews included a Boromir and even a Gimli and a Legolas, but as of yet no Aragorns. 

“And if I am fortunate enough to have a daughter,” Legolas continued, “then I am planning to name her Finduilas.” 

Faramir blinked in surprise, “Well, that's...an honor, but also a whimsical and baffling choice.” Faramir didn't think that Legolas had ever even met his mother. 

Legolas smiled mistily. “Yes. I think that she would have liked it, as I always heard she was a bit whimsical herself. And since a daughter of mine would be my Aragorn's sister, it just wouldn't be right to name her Arwen.” 

“I suppose not,” Faramir agreed with a laugh, getting up to wave in greeting as his younger half-brother the King of Men joined them, along with Faramir’s son Elboron, and grandson Barahir. In their wake came Elladan and Elrohir Elrondion, a pack slung over each of their shoulders. 

Elladan grinned at Legolas, “Because if there is one thing that Aragorn always said, it would be....

The two surviving members of the felllowship, and Aragorn's sons and grandsons said all at the once, "Arwen is not my sister."

Legolas laughed too, then he surveyed them all, blinking away tears. Turning to stare at the egret again and forcibly refraining from crossing his arms, he muttered, “Well, I guess it's time to get on the stupid ship.” 

Elladan frowned, and slapped down a coin purse into his smirking twin’s hand. 

Legolas glared at them. “Tell me that the two of you weren’t actually gambling over whether I would really leave this time!” 

Eldarion waved his grinning uncles’ antics aside, and told Legolas, “It might be for the best for you to depart now, brother. Erestor's getting testy, since the sailmaster wants to shoot through straights of Tolfalas on the afternoon tide.” 

“And Erestor is still nervous on ships,” Faramir explained, “Despite everything that Melpomaen, Alphros, Elendil and I have done to reassure him.” 

Legolas nodded and started towards the small boat set to row to the schooner, saying mostly to himself, "And it's not as if Gimli and I can't get off at the Gray Havens, if we want to."

Gimli rolled his eyes, and Elrohir quietly handed him a strong length of hithlum rope. 

“Just in case you need to tie Legolas up in Mithlond,” He explained to Gimli, “Or at a port in between here and there.” 

“I heard that!” Complained an irritated Legolas. 

“You were meant to, Bratling.” Retorted Elrohir, “As a threat it wouldn’t be much good if you didn’t know about it, now would it?” 

Embraces and farewells were exchanged. The small boat rowed to the schooner, with Legolas and Gimli aboard. Elrohir, on the shore, collected money from Elladan again, and from the more innocent Barahir. Faramir just sighed and blocked his elven brother’s view of the proceedings. 

The Prince of Ithilien took his leave on ship board, his half-brother and his son beside him. 

“Legolas,” Faramir said softly, as he and his party left to return to the dock, “You'll probably be taking on some surprise last minute passengers in Mithlond."

“Who?” Legolas asked, intrigued despite himself. “’Tis well and past the usual season for sailing.” 

Faramir smiled, his rueful half-grin, Aragorn's smile, the one that Legolas was going to miss like a limb in the West. Then Aragorn's son, who knew Legolas and his curiosity very well, said, "Well, you're just going to have to stay on the boat 'til the end to find out, aren't you, muindor-Las?"

Embracing Faramir one last time, Legolas said huskily, "You made that up. Just to keep me on the cursed ship."

Erestor, a bit panicked, said "It's not cursed. Melpomaen and Elendil have assured me that this ship is not cursed, and is in fact quite seaworthy. Besides,” Erestor added, calming himself and re-assuming his natural scholar’s tone, “Faramir would never lie to you about such an important thing."

Faramir embraced Legolas back, "I'm not lying. And the last-minute passengers are going to need your help. Please help them, for me." 

"Of course." Legolas promised. 

And Gimli smiled, and whispered his thanks when he embraced Faramir in turn, because he knew that his best friend would never get off the ship before it sailed for true, not after making a promise like that to Aragorn's son. Well, provided that the mysterious last-minute passengers truly materialized, at least.


End file.
